Although I have proved to be a lousy blogger, I have very much enjoyed the blogs of others. Now that I spend my days in front of a computer screen at work I don't read quite as avidly as I used to, but I still look forward to checking in with the activities of my blog friends. I consider them my friends because their blog entries have made me interested in their lives and thoughts. It is a curious phenomenon, but a real one. This feeling of ghostly friendship with people I have never met has just been powerfully reinforced by the death of Elspeth Thompson. I found her blog through someone else's (probably Jane Brocket) and loved watching her transform some old railway carriages by the sea into her permanent home. I didn't know anything about her at first. I didn't know she was a well-known writer and gardener. I just thought her project was a lovely fusion of the past with its place, well-written and beautifully photographed. The way the coastal light fell through the panes of those ever so vintage and ever so English rail cars reminded me of things I didn't know I remembered. Elspeth's descriptions of the work and decision-making surrounding the remodel were in the absolute present, completely within the experience of anyone who has tried to construct anything as complicated as a house. I saw the progress of the job and read about what pleased her and what was left to be done. I also participated in the weather patterns and shared the sunsets and moonrises over her beautiful beach. I enjoyed her pleasure at and commented upon the birth of the puppies, even though I am not quite sure what kind of dog a lurcher actually is. I felt her affection for her daughter in her frequent mentions of her activities, and followed the planning and planting of the garden with great interest. She didn't post regularly, but I checked often and always felt pleased to see a new entry. When I checked today I read that she is dead, and research reveals that it was suicide.
I didn't know Elspeth. I saw what she chose to show me and always realized it was just a fragment of who she was. That she was struggling on the edge of an interior abyss never occurred to me, because she never hinted at it. Blogs spotlight the subjects they are trained upon, leaving whole universes unseen in the darkness around them. Still, people can be known by the subjects they pursue and the things they write about. I do know that I would have liked Elspeth had we met in person and hope that she would have liked me as well. I know that we have some powerful things in common. I know her images, both in word and picture, always spoke to me of the things I care about. We had a relationship, however shadowy and tenuous, and the shock and sorrow I feel now is real. Rest in peace, dear friend.